


Willows

by jeweledleaves



Category: Samurai Love Ballad Party - Fandom, 天下統一恋の乱 | Sakura Amidst Chaos | Samurai Love Ballad (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Gen, I'm really proud of this one, MC is miserable, Saizo is a river spirit, Suicide, like i love it, talks of suicide, this is angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 10:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12885918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeweledleaves/pseuds/jeweledleaves
Summary: WARNING: discussion of suicide, blood, bruising, etc.This is based on the Slavic folklore, specifically the Rusalka, a beautiful river spirit that lures people to their death (this is a more recent mythological development, before the 19th century the Rusalka was actually a benevolent spirit).





	Willows

She weeps like the willows.

Curled into herself, back curved like the branches, she sobs. Her hair, cascading in front of her face, swirls, and shakes as she rocks herself back and forth, like the branches of the tree sway in the wind.

And he watches.

Rarely does a woman come here at night, rumors swirling of the silver spirit that haunts its banks, the ethereal beauty sent to tempt them to their deaths.

Him.

A stark smile rises to his lips, his moonlight pale skin drawing back to reveal his too-sharp teeth. Eyes, the color of dried blood, trailed over her form.

She comes most nights, more now than ever.

He watches.

He doesn’t move to touch her, to entrance her with his ruby gaze, to pull her into the depths where the restless souls of all the others he has claimed dwell.

No, he doesn’t have to.

He rests on the bank, bathed in starlight, allows her to get closer, to draw nearer to him every day.

Perhaps he’s formed an affection to the little lady, to her eyes, reddened by tears, to her rasping breath, to the bruises that mottle her skin.

Perhaps he feels sorry for her.

He knows, he remembers his own pain, the feeling of his warm blood spilling out of him into the waters, the reflection of the lives he had taken.

He remembers what it is to want to die.

So he waits.

He waits for her, swirling the waters, turning the reflections into stories, drawing her near to him.

Maybe even, he loves her then, for just a moment.

Until she is ready, until she is standing in front of him, clothing astray, eyes wild with despair. Until she is begging him for the release that only he can give.

Because she’s too afraid.

Then, and only then, he takes her hand, shocked at the warmth, often they are cold, and only get colder.

He leads her out, red eyes bright, glowing with power. He kisses her, taking her pain from her, her suffering.  
She thanks him, eyes glazed over as he gives her peace.

He releases her from her life, then, letting her drift to the bottom of the river, far away from those who would harm her.

Then he goes back to waiting.


End file.
